Puberty and Menopause

It's been a crazy week, and I'm not exactly sure why. I'm starting to think that it might have something to do with (I'm swallowing hard before I type this) my age.

I like to think that I could not possibly be vain enough to have any concern about something as arbitrary as a number, but I then remind myself that I'm the same person who used to weigh herself every hour all night long. So, on second thought, maybe it's appropriate for me to be a little wigged out about the big 5-0 that will catch up with me this November.

I was reminded this week by a friend (ok, my therapist, I just wish she was my friend) that this time in my life (euphemistically called middle-age, even if I seriously doubt to see 100) is similar to puberty. Certainly my hormones are going crazy. For the first time in my life, I find myself boiling from the inside out at the most random times, with the need to rip off my clothes and stand in front of the freezer. I also feel like I spend more time looking for my keys than actually using them and I've started keeping my movie ticket stubs so I can remember the movies I've already seen.

It's funny as I'm writing this, but in the throes of struggling to find a word that is on the very tip of my tongue, it's really not so funny. Just like puberty, I suppose.

 Dealing with unpredictable acne, first loves, and the poorly-timed realization that tampons are much easier to put in than take out, wasn't very funny. Feeling like no one understands and it is quite possible you are losing your mind but no one seems to care, isn't very funny either. I just thank God that all of those old people in their 40s and 50s were so wrong when they tried to convince me that being 14 was the best time of my life. (Note to audience: If your life was better in high school than now, your time on the therapist's couch is overdue.)

Besides the physical changes that come with nearing 50, I find myself asking many of the same questions I asked at 14. What is my purpose? When is "too late?" Does the phrase "better to be safe than sorry" have an age-limit? When I retire, who will I eat lunch with? Will there be more people for me to love who will love me back? Will I have that hump on my back? Can my teeth last another 50 years?

Thankfully, I'm not 14. I'm 49. Old enough to know that tomorrow has a way of taking care of itself. Old enough to know that each season of life is a gift to be received and embraced. Old enough to know that God is only in this present moment -- even if that moment finds me standing in front of the freezer.